The Prince and the Prodigy
by ladyrostova
Summary: ValdoxTia. She was the Chosen One. He was the bad guy. This is the story of their fatal attraction. Rated T for safety. Possible spoilers for Chapter Three onwards.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Hai guys. :D

I've been perusing this section for Valdo fanfics and have found none (D8), so I decided to write one myself (8D)!

This prologue is rather short, I know, but have no fear – the next chapters will be longer, especially as the plot thickens. D

I have not finished the game, and therefore am pulling a lot of this out of my you-know-where, so please bear with me. I'm going to stick to what I know as much as possible, but will be alternating POVs every chapter (from Valdo - Tia, and from Tia - Valdo).

I do not own Avalon Code.

~ - ~

PROLOGUE.

Pulse racing, heart slamming, eyes darting, Valdo stood at the edge of the grassy precipice, his army behind him. The wind rustled his tattered navy cloak, its airy fingers running through his silvery mane and cooling the sweat plastered to his pale skin.

It had been a trying battle, and the Waisen Empire had been defeated.

All the blood, sweat, and tears seemed to be wasted in Valdo's cynical opinion. He had never been more ashamed or displeased with his army than he was today. Such was his displeasure that he decided he would not even suffer a look at General Heath for quite some time – it was _his_ fault they'd lost. Not the Prince's. The Prince could do no wrong.

Angrily, he shaped his eyes into slits and glared at the triumphant Kaleilan soldiers, celebrating unabashedly. Their arrogance sickened him, and he spat on the ground as the King delivered his victory speech to his jubilant soldiers. Had they no humility? Did they not know he stood there, hovering like a hawk above them, listening to their deafening shouts of glory against evil?

Valdo glared at the masses of silver armor, dancing around in the wretched sun, the latter bouncing off the metal plates and sending rays of light into the sky. Fools. Utter fools. They should be on their way home, not dallying in the splendor of victory. Why did they stay at the fortress? To further humiliate and assault – emotionally – the Waisen army? Was this the famed Kaleilan magnanimousness?

The silver-haired Prince knew that their triumph would be short-lived. As long as _he_ was alive, his primary goal would be to make sure King Xenonbart would soon not be. Kaleila would be without a ruler, and, in her helplessness, the Waisen would swoop in and take her. Taking care of Xenonbart's single heir was easy enough. Since she was infatuated with him, Valdo would marry the repulsive Princess Dorothea and take control of Kaleila. To expand the Waisen was his secondary goal. Kaleila was a vast kingdom, and would be the brightest jewel in the crown of the Waisen Empire, if they were to secure her. And they would. Valdo was sure of it.

He needed to speak with Heath soon about their plans. However, being in his current state of mind, Valdo thought it best to wait. He wanted Heath to believe he was going to be punished. And severely. Fear and guilt were the best instruments of torture. _Let the guilt seep in_, he mused, cruelly, _let Heath think I'm going to punish him for his miserable failure today. Maybe then he'll take our cause more seriously_.

After what seemed an eternity, the jovial army was finally beginning to depart for their shining little kingdom. Valdo let his eyes roam over the figures, which, haggard and fatigued though they were, still exuded joy and pride. They were all uniform in that regard, except for one – a small, lithe figure dressed in a bright pink coat and brown stockings – which seemed to be more excited than the rest. That was all he could see, anyway.

The thought of this figure, this girl – for so she was – entering the battlefield with absolutely no armor intrigued and confounded him, and for a moment, he was entranced, trying to decide whether she was either exceedingly brave or insufferably stupid. Her pinkish-red hair swiveled in the breeze, and as she moved with the rest of the army, she chanced a glance up at the precipice on which he stood. Her stormy grey eyes met with his haunting maroon ones, only for a second, and then she pulled them away in favor of a young, blue-haired child near her.

Valdo shook his head, shocked at her ability to arrest him so with her eyes, and followed her figure till she disappeared from his view.

And then, it hit him.

The girl was holding a large, brown book with a yellow-and-red-eye in the center of the back and front covers. There was only one book he knew to have that appearance, and it was the Book of Prophecy. Could it be, then, that she was the Chosen One? It was inconceivable to imagine she was anything but.

"Pfft," he scoffed after the army, "the other guys always get the Chosen One."


	2. Chapter One

Author's Note: I have changed Tia's name to Sephora (pronounce the 'ph' as a single 'f').

Bonus points to whoever knows what 'Ancille' (the name I gave the maid) means.

Please enjoy~3

I do not own Avalon Code.

CHAPTER ONE.

Happily inside the confines of her quaint wooden cottage, Sephora seated herself at her desk and began to brush the tangles out of her thick, reddish-pink locks. She'd removed her square-ish, tan hair-pin, having set it on the surface of the table so as to not catch it with her brush, and raised the wooden grooming piece to the other side of her head, carefully removing all traces of knots.

"Your hair is so pretty, Sephora. You should grow it out."

Without needing to turn around, Sephora knew whose voice had just wrung out. "I might, Mieli, but long hair gets in the way of melee combat, you know."

The forest spirit glided over to the seated girl and landed on her desk, smiling contentedly up at her, despite the chains around her legs which were surely making her uncomfortable. "I suppose you're right… but if you wore it in a ponytail – "

"Give it a rest, Mieli, she said she doesn't wanna grow it out," interjected Rempo, the fire spirit with an appropriately volatile temper. "Sephora, can't we go out? As much as I like hanging around here listening to Mieli croon over you, I'd like to go out and practice Judgment Link or something."

"(No one asked your opinion, Rempo)," Neaki breathed, folding her arms across her icy chest. She stared daggers at her opposite.

"Please behave, you two," Mieli, ever the pacifist, quickly said, just as Rempo was gearing up to verbally assault the ice spirit. "You're distressing Sephora," she added, gently.

"I'm fine," Sephora corrected, pinning the tan accessory neatly into her hair once more. "Just relax, Rempo, we'll get out soon enough."

Her words seemingly abated the spirit's inferno, and he relaxed against the girl's windowsill, where he'd been sitting hitherto, staring longing outside. He was never able to go very long without some excitement or battle, and today was no exception. It always took Sephora to quell this longing of his. It was no secret that Rempo practically hero-worshipped the girl, for she was the Chosen One, and he had been the first of the four spirits to befriend her, so when she told him to do something, he generally had no qualms in doing it.

Sephora stood from her desk, and, as if cueing them, the spirits followed suit and gathered around her. Rempo sat on her right shoulder, and Mieli took the left. Neaki scooted very far away from Rempo in favor of Mieli, and chose to hover near her over the girl's left shoulder.

"I'm going to stop and visit Kamuil. I've got a couple flowers to show him," she explained, striding toward the door. "Then I have to stop and visit Princess Dorothea. She wants a report on the battle, since the king won't give her one. He thinks she won't understand it," Sephora said, her white fingers encircling the silver doorknob, cold beneath her fingers.

"He's probably got a point," Rempo muttered under his breath. "That girl's got nothing inside that head of hers except – "

"Rempo! She's my friend, remember," Sephora defended. "It's not her fault she's like that. It's her dad's fault for spoiling her rotten and not insisting she be tutored."

"She can be very sweet when she wants to be," Mieli chirped in support of the Princess.

"(Dorothea's cat has more common sense than her)," Neaki's icy breath spewed into the air, freezing a nearby, unsuspecting leaf.

Sephora sighed, deciding it was no use to discuss it any further. "Regardless, I'm still going to visit her."

They walked to Kamuil's house in silence.

"Ah, Sephora," came the green-haired man's pleasant voice, "have you found some more flowers to show me?" He ran his fingers over his blue and gold coat and held his hand out for the girl to shake, which she readily did.

"I have," she responded, taking out the Book of Prophecy and sifting through its pages until she arrived at the flower section. She pulled out the first, which was a beautiful round flower with a brown core and yellow petals. It resembled the sun in a strange way.

Kamuil's face lit up when he saw it. "This is the cat flower! It represents moodiness. Have you got any more?" he queried, anxiously, handing her back the cat flower.

She nodded, and pulled out several more flowers she had found, both in the Wargliss fortress and in Granatum. He classified them eagerly, telling her both the name and what each represented, his face never losing its beaming grin. They went on for a few minutes, for Sephora had not been able to stop in Rhoan for a time and therefore had many flowers needing to be classified, but, after she'd run out of flora to show him, she'd made her good-byes and hastened along the path toward the palace, spirits in tow.

The road to the palace was riddled with myriad steps and stairwells, and by the time she'd finished climbing them all, after passing Vis's and the mayor's houses, Sephora was rendered completely breathless.

"Don't wear yourself out, Sephora," Rempo urged her, as gently as he could manage.

She offered him a smile of gratitude for his concern, then pushed ahead, transcending the inner garden and, finally, entering the palace. She hurried along the many confusing corridors, dirtying the beautiful red and gold-edged carpet with her boots as she did so. She felt rather bad for that, and enlisted Mieli's help – for she did lord over the dirt and forest after all – to collect the dirt and dispose of it elsewhere.

A few minutes and a couple stairwells later, Sephora entered the grand audience chamber and headed straight for Dorothea's room, which branched off to the left of the king's throne.

"Sephie!" Dorothea cried as soon as the girl had thrown back the door to her lavish, velvet-dripping room. "I was so hoping you would come today!"

Sephora stepped in, humbly, and closed the door behind her. Dorothea was positively glowing in her beauty, her light blue eyes brimming with joy and her light blond hair falling in curls around her pink cheeks. Even Rempo could not deny that her friend, the Princess, was very beautiful. Seeing her naïve and innocent face always cheered Sephora, whatever mood she was in.

She could do without the ridiculous nick-name Dorothea had assigned her, though.

"I decided we can skip the battle details for today, because I was doing some research" – Rempo guffawed – "and I came across a recipe for a cake that used to be baked here long ago," she gushed, thrusting a piece of paper into Sephora's hands. "I was hoping we could make it and see if it was any good! It's called the Dorothean! Great name for a cake, huh?"

"I'll take a look," Sephora agreed, grinning at her friend. She held the recipe in front of her eyes and studied it, deciding it would not be too difficult to make. Hoisting the bulky Book of Prophecy into her direct view, the girl stuck the recipe inside the tablet section and went about finding the correct codes to put the cake together. After a moment or so, she'd completed the cake, and pulled out a slice for both herself and Dorothea.

"Oh, my!" the Princess exclaimed, grabbing the slice from Sephora and eyeing it, complete with pink icing, various sprinkles, and myriad other edible decorations.

Guri Guri whined at the sight of it, and Sephora cut him a little piece, feeling guilty. Then, she noticed the hand-maiden in the corner, staring longingly at the slice in Dorothea's hands, and decided to give her a slice as well.

"Oh, Sephie, you needn't give the maid any," Dorothea admonished, her cheeks stuffed with cake, her little cherry lips painted with icing. "Oh, this is… delicious! It is so sweet! It's by far the best cake I've ever had! Ancille," she addressed her maid, "go tell father this cake should be declared the official sweet of the kingdom!" The maid, Ancille, nodded and sped out of the room, still licking the icing from her fingers.

"Well, it's been fun, Sephie, but I'm tired," the Princess said, overtaken by a sudden onslaught of yawns. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"See you, Princess," Sephora replied, waving good-bye as she headed for the door.

"Oh, wait!"

"Yes?" the girl stopped half-way through the door.

"Did you, by chance, see Valdo at the Wargliss fortress? They say he's dead, but… I don't believe the rumors," Dorothea said, fiddling nervously with her thumbs as an unnatural pink spread over her face.

"You mean, the Waisen Prince?" Sephora questioned, raising an eye-brow.

The Princess nodded, keeping her sea-blue eyes hopefully fastened to Sephora's grey ones.

"I think I may have seen some royal person on top of a hill," Sephora admitted. "He was wearing a crown over his silver hair and had the fiercest red eyes I've ever seen…" she recalled, sinking into her memory.

"Oh, that must be him! I knew he was alive," she beamed, scooping up Guri Guri and patting him affectionately on the head. "You hear that, Guri Guri? Valdo's still alive!"

Sephora smiled, then shut the door behind her. "Now, was that so terrible, Rempo?"

"Yes," he groaned, picking at his ears. "Her voice is so shrill. I'll never hear right again."

"(Stop your moaning. At least she didn't ask us to stay longer)," came the chill of Neaki's breath. Rempo ignored her.

"Let's get home. You need to rest before we go rescue Ur," he instructed, to the approval of the other two spirits.

As they neared the cottage on the outskirts of Rhoan, Sephora began to feel the tiredness sinking into her bones. She let her feet drag, kicking up dust in her wake, and felt her knees beginning to go weak at the sight of her house. Sighing, she prepared to step toward the door, when she heard a voice behind her.

"You sure don't look like the Chosen One."

Sephora whirled around, her small, round mouth wide with surprise and shock.

There stood a man before her, a man armed and much taller than her, his arms laced with thick muscles. Something about him made her feel like she was in the gravest danger. Thus, the girl made for the Book of Prophecy in a desperate attempt to arm herself, but the man was too quick for her. Sephora didn't even have enough time to catch a glimpse of his face before she felt herself falling backward, for the unknown fiend had dealt her a swift and hard blow across the face.

Her jaw popped, the taste of blood stung in her mouth, and then all was black.


End file.
